The Lone Wolf
by JojoLightningfingers
Summary: A story told by a Daein soldier watching Ike destroy their ranks on his lonesome.


**So I was playing Path of Radiance for the sixth time a few days ago and trying to solo the game with Ike (on normal mode because I'm too much of a pansy to try Hard mode). It's really not that difficult. Seriously, just throw him in the general direction of his enemies and they all die. I ended up beating that file with a time of 11 hours, which is my best time for that game. So I decided to write this.**

**Sorry for that long and unnecessary back note.**

* * *

We don't exist.

That's what it feels like. To that man, we're nothing. He sees only his goal; he wants the tower and by Ashera, he'll take it or die.

The throngs of my fellow soldiers rise up to bar his path. They stretch from him to the gates: humans, cats, ravens, hawks, tigers, dragons. It's meaningless, though. There is no stopping that demon.

He's the only one fighting us. The rest of his army, I'm told, is elsewhere sieging another castle. He has not a single healer to attend to him and it's because he doesn't need one.

We are outmatched in every possible way. In base skill, in speed, in raw power. My friends have yet to land a single hindering hit. He parries a lance and eviscerates the rider's horse to get at him before taking his arm off at the shoulder with a single blow from the massive golden sword he wields. He spins from the path of an axe and lays open its owner's back. A daring swordsman is run through the second he's close enough to bring the weapon up.

Even when the giant gold fang bites air, there is blood-archers who fancied themselves safe with distance die in droves from the sheer energy of the swing. I'm beginning to think that the sword is magical.

He takes a strike to his arm and the blade falls from his grip. There seems to be hope. The army closes in, obstructing his reach for the sword.

It doesn't seem to daunt him in the slightest. His gauntlets are plated with steel, his boots are capped in thick iron. He uses these to his full advantage, punching and kicking and dodging and weaving and ripping through our ranks to his weapon with a look of nearly crazed determination in his eyes. And still his injuries lie only in the realm of nicks and scratches.

There simply is no way he can be human. Or, if he is, he is protected by some higher power. No human could take on an entire battalion and live.

He's doing it, though. Right before my eyes. Not even the sub-humans are a match for him. The birds are impaled when the dive for an attack. The beasts find themselves missing paws from a frontal assault, or gutted, sliced open throat to hindquarters when they attempt to leap behind him. The dragons... When they aren't beheaded, they're slowly hacked apart. It's a dreadful thing to witness.

Ever so gradually, he has clawed his way to the gates. A trail of blood and mangled corpses marks his grisly path. Our mages are our last line of defense.

He stands tall against the oncoming rush of fire. He does nothing to dodge, nothing to counter. Only waits for the inferno to engulf him and his surroundings in a maelstrom of flames. For a few breathless seconds, the only sound is crackling wood.

Out he strides, bloody blade dripping black and gilded liquid. The ends of his clothes are singed, but nothing more. He emotionlessly dispatches the mages with calm efficiency and walks placidly to our commander. While he frantically tries to cast an incantation, the man runs him through the heart and heaves his body to the side. The castle is now open to him.

With the knowledge that it is over, the thrall his battle prowess held over me dissipates. My knees turn weak and I realize I have been crying. I know not from what. I assume from either fear or loss, and probably both.

He's terrifying. He's amazing. He's a dread monster. My platoon has been annihilated by a lone wolf.  
Fatalism seizes me. I'm going to die anyway. Why not die trying to kill the invader? Numb fingers fumble on the ground for some weapon, any weapon. They find a javelin, slick with someone's blood. I force myself to stand.

His back is turned and his guard is down. He'll never see it coming. I'm shaking. My aim, though, is true. The lance flies as straight as any arrow.

He was turning as I threw it. A startled expression passes over his features; he raises a gloved hand and bats the missile aside with the metal on the back of his gauntlet. He, with eyes as blue as a summer sky, surveys the battlefield and locates me. The eyes pin me in place with the pressure of authority, overwhelming the blinding terror that shrieks at me to run, even though I know he'll catch me eventually.

Slowly he approaches. Terror begins to win the fight with his gaze, moving me back a paralyzing step for every three of his own. He soon is before me. And strangely, the first thing I notice is that he is little more than a boy.

I am caught between incredulity and outrage. This is the demon that slaughtered the entirety of the guards? A child? Yet, I am reminded of the situation I presently am in. Fleeing and fighting offer a swift and painful demise. My only option is to stand perfectly still and stare back at him like a rabbit.

In the seconds he spends analyzing me, I notice something in his eyes. He hates this war. He doesn't like to kill. He doesn't like it, but he knows that it's necessary.

He speaks, and I am forced from my musings. "Tell me your name."

Somehow, I find the wherewithal to answer. "Reid. My name is Reid."

Another tense minute passes, where his hand tightens on the grip of his sword. I know he is thinking about killing me. He doesn't want to kill me. I step back in apprehension.

He turns around and walks back the way he came.

In the face of the fact that I am not about to die, I, for some reason, am compelled to call after him. "Wait!"

He waits. He does not face me.

"Who are you? Why are you letting me live?"

He spares a moment before continuing his tread to the castle gates. "I don't like to kill the unarmed and unwilling to fight." My first question, it seems, is to go unanswered. A hawk's screech pierces the sky and he glances in its direction, then over his shoulder to me. "We've taken the other stronghold. There's nowhere for you to go now, soldier. My friends will come to help me take this one. I've spared you, but Boyd and Shinon are less tolerant by far. If you're smart, you'll run home."

"What if I were to join you?" The words are said before the idea has time to fully take root. It appears to be the best choice I have now.

After a pause, he turns around. "My name is Ike. Welcome to my army." And he disappears into the castle with nary a backwards glance.

I spend a moment searching for my lance, then rush in after him.

* * *

**So if anybody can guess where I got the soldier's name from, you get cookie points. I'm sorry for making Ike's speech so out of character. It's been a long time since I've actually watched the cutscenes for that game.**


End file.
